Unwelcome
by koswarg
Summary: [GeraldHelga, ArnoldHelga] Gerald and Helga discuss how they should tell Arnold.


A/N: This was a birthday present for my friend, Elphie. It's Gerald/Helga with some Arnold/Helga, too. There's a fanart to go with it (sort of) by my other friend, BC. I'll put the link it my profile.

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Helga fell back against the wall, sighing loudly. _What now?_ She shut her eyes tightly, trying to block out everything that was invading her senses. 

_Welcome back, Arnold._ She couldn't even look him in the eye, for Pete's sake. She wondered if he noticed, if he suspected something. Of course he didn't. He was Arnold. Sweet, naive, trusting Arnold.

Welcome back, indeed.

Helga banged her fist against the wall behind her. She wasn't ever going to able to look him in the face again.

She opened her eyes suddenly, hearing footsteps. She didn't need to look up to know who it was. "Gerald."

He grunted in response, and Helga looked over at him, leaning sideways against the wall a few feet from her. His tie was loosened, and she saw his hand shaking as he brought it up to take a drag of his cigarette.

"I'll do it," he said, after a long while. "I'll tell him."

Helga bit her lip, closing her eyes again. The music from the adjacent room was causing the wall to vibrate, and was giving her a rather splitting headache. She was glad for it, though. She didn't want to be overheard.

"What if...what if...no one tells him?" she asked faintly, in a voice that didn't sound like her own.

Gerald stopped his hand halfway to his mouth. He looked at her incredulously. "Are you serious?" he asked, and Helga thought he sounded a bit angry.

"What if I am?" she said, raising her chin defiantly.

Gerald narrowed his eyes. "I don't think--"

"Yeah, but yours isn't the life about to be ruined, is it?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "The way I see it, you don't have any stake in this decision."

"Helga..." he began, in a tone that sounded like he was trying to control himself. "You can't just pretend like nothing happened."

"I can, too!" she protested, stomping her foot. She'd been hiding her feelings since she was four years old, hadn't she?

"It's not healthy to bury things like that," Gerald advised, and Helga thought he was getting a bit too close for her to think straight. He pressed his hand against the wall next to her head, leaning towards her. Helga thought vaguely of leaning up to kiss him. _Idiot. That's what got you here in the first place._

"I don't need advice from _you_, tall-hair boy," she said disdainfully, hoping that the tone of her voice would convince him that she felt a lot more confident than she really did. She looked off to the right, trying not to think about his breath on her cheek. Gerald grabbed her right arm with his left, drawing her attention back to him.

He was giving her that _look_. She hated that look. She could feel the guilt swirling in the pit of her stomach.

"If you won't think of yourself, think of Arnold. He deserves the truth, don't you think?"

Helga drew in a shaky breath. Tears were forming, threatening to fall. She pushed them away. She _wasn't_ going to cry, not at a moment like this, when she most needed her composure. She looked down at her hands, noticing how white they looked, because she was clenching them together so tightly.

"I don't want..." she began, but cut off when her voice cracked pathetically. She cursed herself for being so weak. Gerald's gaze had changed abruptly to pity; Helga clenched her teeth in anger and took a deep breath.

"Don't _look_ at me like that!" she shouted, drawing the attention of a nearby couple. They turned away, however, when Helga glared in their direction.

Now her hand was shaking, whether from anger or the sheer weight of the situation, she couldn't tell.

"I know it's hard--"

"No," she interrupted. "No, you don't _know_. For once, I thought I was going to be happy, you know? For the first time since...since as long as I can remember. I mean really happy. The kind of happy that makes people write those gooey love songs."

Gerald stared back at her blankly, not responding.

"But now it'll never be that way," she said slowly, as if realizing it for the first time, herself. "And the worst part is, I was the one who ruined it. There's no one to blame but me. Way to go, Helga," she muttered, giving Gerald the feeling that she'd forgotten his presence.

"Look, if you think that Arnold's going to kick you out, I'm not sure we're talking about the same guy."

"It's not that," she responded. "Or maybe it is. I know Arnold would forgive me, eventually," she said, looking down at her feet. "I just don't think I could be around him after...after..."

"What happened between us," he finished for her.

"Yeah," she breathed, letting out a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Neither of them said a word for a long while. She fleetingly thought that if neither of them moved, maybe time wouldn't start again.

"What are you going to do, then?" Gerald asked after a while, his voice sound much more hoarse than it had previously. Helga looked up gratefully, glad that he'd left the decision to her. She knew what had to be done.

"The only thing I can do."

"If you need to talk--"

"I know," she interrupted. "Thanks."

With that, Helga proceeded to begin the longest walk of her life - across the room, and up to Arnold to spill her guts.

Gerald watched from a distance, his mouth in a strained, even line, as Helga whispered something to Arnold. He looked confused for a moment, but soon the two of them disappeared into the kitchen, Helga shooting a last, fleeting glance at Gerald before the door swung shut behind her.

Gerald crushed out his cigarette. He'd definitely had better days, and he'd certainly had better parties.


End file.
